


Nyktophobia

by ZarryFTZouis



Series: Chrissy's Oneshots [82]
Category: One Direction (Band), Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Vamps (UK Band), Union J (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Anal Sex, First Kiss, M/M, Public Blow Jobs, wow this is vanilla for me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 20:07:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2594819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZarryFTZouis/pseuds/ZarryFTZouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>nyktophobia - n. fear of darkness</p><p>Brad is unique amongst his siblings and he doesn't exactly know what to do about Zayn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nyktophobia

**Author's Note:**

> It's supposed to be longer but I like cliffhangers.

_Summer of 2009_

Brad just sighs as he dangles his legs over the bridge that leads into Lake Azure. It’s a week before the June Solstice and he feels so ignored.

He’s learnt of his heritage, that he is a demigod son of Greek god Apollo and to say he was overwhelmed is an understatement.

Then again, it’s not every day you’re sat at your lunch table at your secondary school and a hybrid of a human and a bull just bursts in and your school mates think it’s a stray bull. He doesn’t remember how, but he managed to make a temporary sling-shot and hit the Minotaur between its eyes with a plastic spoon and faze it long enough to drive away.

After the eventful lunch, Brad returned home only to be greeted by then-black and blue haired bloke who was _super_ tall. He has been talking to his mum about something and she looked so worried. Both of them explained to Brad that he’s the ancient powers sort of borrowed from the Greek god Apollo, the God of Archery, Sun, Poetry, Music and Prophecies. Brad wouldn’t have believed them but how easy it was for Brad to hit that bull thing with the sling-shot may have convinced him.

Then, as the tall bloke introduced himself as Mr. Ramsay, his life as a demigod at Camp Ace began.

He learnt that demigods aren’t exactly a rare thing as Camp Ace has dozens of demigods from all over Europe. The first demigod friend he made — whose name is Katerina — is from Bulgaria and a daughter of Hecate. (Or Trivia, Brad isn’t too sure of the goddess’ Roman name.) He wasn’t too sure if it was magic that made her slightly-tanned skin and doe-brown eyes so beautiful, with the wavy hair, or her natural beauty that sort of attracted him. He soon found out Katerina was sort of dating the son of Mars, Avery.

Brad isn’t too fond of how Aphrodite/Venus kids think Lake Azure is sort of their territory but with how they check their reflection off of the beautiful lake every four seconds, Brad feels the intense need to leave the place.

“I thought an Apollo kid would be hiding his arse at the Archery Range,” a smirking voice taunts Bradley. “Really, anyone would think you’re a fucking pansy like the children of Aphrodite.”

“This is the only place I can really think, _Marius_ ,” Brad spits out at the newcomer. “As a son of Mercury, haven’t you things to steal?”

“Let’s not get into stereotypes, since the most valuable I can steal is your heart,” the ginger Irish demigod smirks physically. “I’d much rather have your heart than some meaningless iPod or a hairbrush.”

“My heart is to stay untainted.”

With that, Brad stands up and leaves a flustered looking Marius behind.

 

It’s a ten-minute walk from the Lake to the Stables, a place Brad frequents. He isn’t a skilled rider but he loves the feeling of wind brushing past his hair, caressing it, as the pegasus takes him aboveground and makes him feel so surreal. He takes Lapis out, his favourite mare. The pegasus has golden mane and tail, unlike most pure-white pegasi. She snorts when Brad doesn’t greet her with the usual sugar cubes and Brad hopes that doesn’t mean Lapis isn’t pleased with Brad in language of horses. He hops onto her back and takes the rein in his hand, then makes her soar into the sky.

Brad spreads his arms wide open, like he’s embracing the sky. He’s been at Camp Ace for only three weeks but flying on the back of a pegasus can’t beat any feelings. (The glee from his arrows striking their marks excluded.) Lapis is a gentle pegasus and doesn’t beat her wings for a couple second so Brad doesn’t fall from her back and break his neck.

 

He flies Lapis for about an hour before returning to the terrain. He pats Lapis’ snout and returns to her stable.

“I like you more than all of the campers combined, Lapis,” he whispers as he presses lips to her soft muzzle. “You don’t really bother me.”

-

Bradley can’t believe he didn’t notice how the sky was darkening when he gets to the dining area. Mr. Ramsay fixes a hard gaze on him when he walks in but he looks back to the book he’s reading. He shuffles towards the table designated for the children of Apollo and his siblings mumble some greetings.

“Brad,” one of them, whose name Brad remembers as Leigh-Anne, says in a chastising tone. “You didn’t show up to archery practice.”

“I was sort of busy,” Brad apologises. “Did the Hephaestus kids make my bow-gun yet?”

Leigh-Anne fails at not cringing at the mention of Brad’s preferred weapon. When he was about twelve — long before he knew he was a demigod — he went to a weird version of laser tag where the players use a bow-gun loaded with rubber-ended spikes. If you’re hit, you’re out for the round.

“Pylos, I think that’s his name, said they’re working on the finishing touches,” Leigh-Anne smiles this time. “They’re trying to add the celestial bronze to the tips of the spikes.”

“I feel sorry for them to make special weapons just for me,” Brad sighs. “I wish the regular bows interested me as much as a stupid bow-gun does.”

“I know a couple Apollo kids who use crossbows so you aren’t entirely alone,” Leigh-Anne pats Brad’s shoulders comfortingly. “C’mon, the dinner’s getting cold.

 

Brad ate his dinner mostly in silence, not being able to get rid of the feeling of being watched. He thinks it’s his paranoia since he’s new in the world of the demigods. Maybe his Spidey-senses are going off like crazy just because he’s in a different realm.

(Mr. Ramsay told Brad that Camp Ace is in its own realm, hidden from the mortal world just by a portal in highlands of Scotland.)

Currently sat on his bed, Bradley looks at the amulet he’s had for as long as he can remember.

It’s a simple silver chain with the little charm that looks like a pair of onyx wings. His mum told him the day he was born, an unnamed god came for a visit and told her the necklace was his. It holds the Eye of Hawk.

Coming to think about it, that god knew Brad was obviously a child of Apollo, and somehow gave him something that’d boost his demigod talents. A part of him wishes he knew the god personally so he can thank him.

He clasps his hand around the wings before drifting off to sleep.

-

Brad wakes up next morning just as the morning sun seeps through the curtains. With the disadvantage of sleeping on the top bunk, he gets the stream of pale golden rays directly in his face.

“Brad?” He hears on of his siblings — Eoghan? — and just grumbles in reply. “We’ve got a new kid and he sort of needs a tour and everyone sort of ditched so you’re on duty.”

“Last I checked, giving tours is a senior demigod’s duty,” Brad growls. Currently, a demigod who’s twenty years old holds that title for his siblings. “I’ve only been here for three weeks, _and_ only twelve years old.”

“Three weeks is just enough for you to know where the important things are at,” Eoghan scowls at Brad. “And you owe the Hephaestus/Vulcan kids for making them craft your bow-gun.”

 

Twenty minutes later, Brad is trudging towards the entrance/portal of the Camp. He can see that Mr. Ramsay is still talking to the newcomer.

“–you can see why that’s a problem,” the taller, immortal demigod is saying. “We aren’t really okay with that.”

“Oh dear,” Brad says out loud, letting the other know he’s here. “A demigod who’s been here for an hour and already in trouble. What more can I say?”

“Watch it, Simpson,” Mr. Ramsay growls out. “Say hello to Zayn. He’s a son of Venus.”

The way Mr. Ramsay’s voice falter just a bit makes Bradley question _why_.

“Fluffy hair you’ve got,” Brad sighs at the comment he always gets from newly acquainted people. “I’m Zayn and you are?”

“Brad, son of Apollo,” Brad manages to smile and extends an arm, which the other shakes. He ignores how unusually warm the other’s hand is. “I’m sort of in charge of getting you a tour of this place ‘cos the others ditched and I’m the only one who doesn’t have excuses.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t mind at all.”

 

They walk in silence other than the leaves rustling under their feet, or the _dryads_ giggling as they walk by. Nymphs or not, a child of Aphrodite is a magnet to anyone owning eyes. (Or eye, if you’re a Cyclops working underwater at Poseidon’s forge.) Brad feels the attraction but he’s stamping that down.

(Yeah, his half-hard dick from just the thought of him kissing Zayn is a good indication he is fighting off the urge to dry-fuck the older lad.)

“Lake Azure?” Zayn reads the little sign that has the name written in both Greek and Latin. “Please don’t tell me that’s where my siblings spend the entire day watching their reflections.”

“You got that stereotype of an Aphrodite kid right,” Brad sniggers. “But sadly, it is. The colour of the water is a beauteous shade of blue, hence the name.”

“Did a demigod create this realm?” Zayn asks Brad, taking him by surprise. “You told me this is in its own realm, an off-plane place from the mortal world.”

“You’ve heard of Camp Half-Blood in the New World, right?” Zayn nods. “It works in the same way. They got a little barrier so that the mortals can’t find them and with us, there’s a portal traceable by demigods and monsters in the highlands of Scotland. The location of the portal changes every 8 hours, making harder for a monster to invade us. For a demigod, we live here most of the time so that’s not a problem.”

“Can I..?” Brad knits his eyebrows together and flushes red when he realises how close their faces are. This close, he can focus on actual features of Zayn, not blinded by the general attraction, and drinks in the raven-black hair that’s slightly on the long side, the long eyelashes that are thick, plump lips and amber eyes that just hold every shade of brown known to men.

Brad wasn’t prepared for the electric jolt that runs down his spine when their lips meet. Zayn is older than Brad and maybe had his share of kissing blokes and birds but this is aces. Zayn’s lips feel softer than they appear to be and it’s nice how they set up a simple rhythm of harmony. Purely by instinct, Brad cups Zayn’s neck just as he feels a slight pressure on his cheek.

They kiss for a couple minutes until they run out of breath and Brad just stares at the other lad.

His first kiss was with a bloody child of Love and he loved every second of it.

-

Two weeks passed ever since Zayn waltzed into his life and he likes his life at the Camp just a tab bit more. His bow-gun with the celestial bronze-shafted spikes are ready and he can see how his siblings look at him with the unusual choice of weapon. They prefer the older, familiar longbows but screw them, they’ve all got their preference.

And just today, Mr. Ramsay announced they’re sort of expecting a guest from the New World. Brad still thinks he imagined the way Zayn’s eyes flashed to stygian black when that was mentioned.

 

At the stables, Brad is waiting for Zayn and when he hears footsteps, he turns around with a smile.

Except it’s not who he expected.

A scrawny kid about the age of twelve is staring at him with dark eyes, with Latin feature of dark skin and dark hair. Brad hasn’t seen all the campers so maybe this kid is Italian with his mortal parentage.

“You look smaller in person,” the newcomer sounds cynical even without trying. “I was looking for someone else, a distant cousin, if you will.”

“That’d be me,” Zayn appears out of nowhere — literally nowhere — and that successfully startles Brad. “Brad, I’m sorry to do this to you but you won’t remember you saw Nico di Angelo. You waited for me to come to the stables for an hour but I stood you up.”

Everything fades into darkness after that.

-

Brad feels like he’s floating and maybe the fact that he’s dreaming contributes to that.

He also thinks this isn’t a normal demigod dream since he’s looking at a winged _Zayn_.

Zayn looks regal with stygian iron-wrought full-suited armour and stygian iron spear. He looks like an avenging god with his stygian black wings that match his outfit completely.

His eyes, no longer a nice shade of golden-brown, are unearthly shade of amber Brad hasn’t seen in anyone’s eyes.

Anyone mortal for that matter.

“Little son of Apollo gifted with foresight, eh?” The creature that resembles Zayn says with a loud, dark, cold laughter. “You’ll figure out who I really am in time but for now, you must sleep.”

-

Brad comes to life with a loud gasp, not sure what he’d as a dream. He remembers the caress of dark wings, and a voice that manages to haunt him in the waking world.

“Brad?”

He turns his head to see Zayn and a skinny kid with super dark eyes.

He also notices how he’s in the infirmary.

“You sort of passed out and I had to carry you here,” Zayn supplies, his eyes narrowed. “And this is Nico, the kid Mr. Ramsay mentioned.”

“The New World demigod?”

“Technically, I’m a Greco-Italian,” Nico points out. His hair is long and even darker than Zayn’s. “And the Camp I sort of escaped from doesn’t know this place exists. Well, other than Chiron, of course.”

“He’s a child of the Underworld, which is why he carries a stygian iron dagger, not a celestial bronze or imperial gold weapon,” Zayn adds. “According to this little guy, only the Blood of Hades can wield stygian iron.”

“Thank you for making me sound so ancient,” Nico sighs in a defeated way. “The metal will suck in the life force of other demigods, or so I’ve heard.”

“Why are you here?” Brad asks the obvious. “You aren’t here to lecture us on things that we know.”

“I travel a lot,” Nico answers vaguely. “And I just learn things faster than the others.”

“You want to prevent something from happening,” Brad guesses. He also guesses that Nico’s appearance has to do with his dream. “And you need our help.”

_Two years later_

“C’mon, Bradley, it won’t hurt anyone!” Zayn tries to persuade Brad again. “It’s just one outdoors sex.”

Brad is stood in the Forest of Frigga, the forest named after the Norse goddess. He can’t remember of _what_. It’s the start of winter and he’s dressed in warm dark green jumper and jeans with inner lining of furry-feeling fabric.

“Um, I think someone might walk in on us,” Brad says with little enthusiasm. “It’s thirty minutes to curfew, one of the patrol might catch us.”

“What are they going to do if we are? Throw us out of Camp?” Zayn scoffs.

Brad still doesn’t understand Zayn after two years of knowing him. The fact that two of them are sort of dating doesn’t help at all.

Really, Zayn is as unpredictable as a wildfire and has an aura of mystery surrounding him.

“Fine, but make it quick.”

Before long, Brad’s back is pressed into the moss-covered ground and he thinks he feels a twig against his bare arse. He also feels something _cold_ creeping into the scene they’re in.

“I know what I’m doing,” Zayn whispers against Brad’s lips before kissing him hungrily. After two years of kissing, Zayn’s kisses still fear otherworldly. There isn’t a word that perfectly describes how controlling his _sort of_ boyfriend  can be just by kissing. His soft lips pry Brad’s own one without much effort — not that Brad was resisting — and he feels the familiar spiking motions of his long tongue. Zayn’s hand trek up to the small of Brad’s back and stays there, making Brad feel secure despite his dreams. Soon, Zayn’s other hand move down to the part of Brad that needs the most attention, half-hard from the desire-driven kiss they’re sharing. Zayn smirks against his lips and thumbs over his slit that’s bubbling with pre-cum. Brad whimpers into the kiss, a desperate, needy sound. Zayn’s kisses get sloppier by seconds and they start descending from Brad’s lips. Zayn just chuckles, kissing and sucking onto the soft spot located at the juncture of Brad’s neck between the jaw and the base of his neck. He needn’t a mirror to see that there’s a bruising shape there now. Zayn licks and kisses his way further south, a gasp emitted from Brad when he feels a wet heat lapping at his slit. The calloused hand moves down to the crown of his shaft, making him even harder if that was possible.

Brad feels the wetness caressing his head before it envelops the other part of his dick. It’s a nice feeling, both physical and emotionally, having the only person you love as the only lover you’ll ever get and knowing something so _dark_ about that person. He can’t concentrate on forming words as the wetness and warmth surround the entirety of his dick though. Zayn isn’t a child of Venus, the Goddess of Love and Sexual Rapture for nothing. Virgin or experienced, it’s a well-known fact her children are expert on pleasuring the others. Brad knows Zayn sleeps with other people than Brad (couple girls from Ares/Mars sector and maybe one or two from his own half-siblings) but he also knows Zayn sort of loves him too. Zayn’s nose prods against Brad’s balls and that’s enough of a cut-off of all coherent thoughts. Zayn starts to move his head up and down, starting a slow tempo of his movements. Brad is too gentle to fuck Zayn’s mouth and lets Zayn do all the works. Zayn keeps making the sound you make when your airway is halfway constricted by something and that helps Brad release down his sort of boyfriend’s throat down quickly.

“Liked that?” Zayn smirks as he wipes some of his spittle away, then fully presses his weight down onto Brad. The kiss is too frantic to be classified as one, just two sets of lips mashing in a frenzy.

 

Somewhere along the way, Brad ends up on top of Zayn’s lithe body and he can feel both their erections rubbing off. Brad is still sensitive as the aftermath of one of the most intense orgasms in his life (the fear of getting caught helped loads) but he’s up for round 2. He lines their dicks together and starts to jerk them off, hoping the pre-cum on Zayn’s slit is enough. They both pant their breaths, Zayn’s eyes half-hooded, and Brad leans close to reattach their lips when he hears a loud whistle.

“Fuck,” Zayn says intelligently.

 

Ten minutes later, at Mr. Ramsay’s headquarters, Brad thinks for the thousandth time that night that he really shouldn’t listen to the son of Venus. Really, for last two years, everything he’s done with Zayn borderlines with illegality.

“The _dryad_ , kid,” Mr. Ramsay is sounds remarkably composed despite seeing both the younger demigods naked and about to fuck. “She says she never wanted to witness anything like that but she knew that she had to tell me.”

“And?” Zayn sounds as defiant as ever.

“Zayn, you were next in line as the senior demigod of your siblings but now that title goes to George,” Brad knows that George was practically born in Camp Ace. “And as for you, Simpson…”

“No, my position is the only thing I have as something I can hold as leverage over the others!” Brad is panicking. He _can’t_ lose his position as a senior Apollo child. “Mr. Ramsay, I’m begging you.”

“It wasn’t just a _dryad_ who caught you,” Mr. Ramsay growls. “Liam saw the two of you sneaking out of the Divine Forest.”

 _Well, this is just as I foresaw_ , Brad sighs. _Didn’t know about Zayn though. I need to ask my father about how to control the visions,_ if _he ever speaks to me in a dream._

-

Two years and Brad still finds his innermost fear — well — fearful.

Two years of dreaming about the all-consuming darkness is enough to make him fear its existence.

It’s always the same for Brad. He is stood at a moor, nothing but tall grass and wind whistling through and suddenly, the winged creature descends.

There isn’t a word to describe the winged being, at least for Brad. All he remembers and sees is a tall person, with ethereal eyes and wings as dark as the starless night sky. The wings of darkness, as he calls them, embraces him and the winged creature says one thing.

_“No matter how hard you try to run, little prophet, Darkness always triumphs. But with you, my little crow, you are the one who’ll uncover me.”_

-

“No, Zayn, you don’t love me!” Brad wants to rip the other demigod’s arms off and beat him with it. “You can never say it, can you? You’re too self-absorbed to notice anything around you! You fuck anyone that breathes the oxygen and don’t care that _I_ fell in love with _you_.”

“I can’t love anyone, not as a rule.” There are tears in the voice of the child of Love. “You either build someone with love or destroy. With you, all I’ve done is destroy.”

“Fuck you, Malik. Without love, I will make sure your deepest secret is uncovered _this I swear on my immortal soul_.

 

 _Three years later, present time_ **(where I left off in “Pistanthrophobia”)**

 

Brad is shite with keeping his promises.

Zayn promised that he’ll never let go of the shred of humanity he has, which takes form of Brad — the love he has for the Apollo demigod. Brad wants to believe that with how they are officially boyfriends and public with it, maybe it’s time he revoked his oath he swore three years ago.

As a child of Apollo, Brad knows that much like sunlight and veracity, oaths are hard things to break or undo.

Apollo is often compared to light, as sunlight is essence of light and Brad knows, by now, that light is one thing that is truthful. Honest.

Over the course of five years, Brad improved with his rare gift of prophecy and he now knows the ‘angel’ that appeared in his dreams/nightmares is Zayn. His dreams tell him that Zayn isn’t a demigod, not really, but the Earthly incarnation of Anubis.

Now, Hades is a Greek god but over the years and different cultures of the world, he is revered in so many forms and the Egyptian form/counterpart is that of Osiris.

Brad isn’t saying that Hades and Osiris is the same deity but he’s saying that Zayn is somehow possessing the body of a Venus kid and started manipulating everyone.

Starting with the Shelley kid, of course.

Zayn said that he found a ‘note’ from George saying he left the Camp with Harry in search of the Yggdrasil. It’s a fable amongst the _older_ Norse demigods. Brad sort of knew that Harry was a son of Ægir, the Nordic sea god.

“Gods, I’m praying to my father knowing he won’t reply to me,” Brad sighs. He’s sort of secluded himself at the Alter of Apollo in the Divine Forest, a sacred place for all the children of Apollo. He’s been conducting a little ceremony only the _truest_ Apollo kids know. It’s a method long forgotten, something Brad found in an ancient scroll.

Basically, a child of Apollo can seclude himself from the outside world and pray to his father, his godly parent and patron, for guidance. On the third day, the god may grant the wish and show himself.

“Should I give up?” Brad looks at the candles that are only couple inches above the ground. “You never cared about me.”

Brad just stood up when there’s a flash of bright light.

“I _really_ hate the Greeks,” comes a feminine voice. “Really, I want to question myself why I even bother.”

The goddess is certainly not a _he_ and she looks really ticked off. She has the same golden hair Brad’s seen on Apollo but she isn’t wearing human clothes like the Greek god of Prophecies. She’s dressed in a warrior’s armour, the only thing that indicates her female characteristics being her breastplate.

“My knowledge on Nordic gods is practically non-existent but my good guess is that you’re Freyja,” Brad ventures a guess and soon gets greeted by an inhuman shriek. “Or not.”

“For _centuries_ , you mortals screw up my name with that bitch!” The goddess is glowing and that’s not a good sign, nope. “I’m _Frigga_ , the wife of Odin and certainly not some bitch who likes gardening and thinks she’s prettier than everyone!”

“Miss Frigga — Mrs, I haven’t a care — this ceremony is for me to meet my father, not a Norse goddess,” Brad tries a careful tone now. “And you certainly aren’t my dad.”

“There’s a reason why he didn’t show up, Bradley Simpson,” the goddess’ amber-green eyes narrow. “Anubis’ incarnation isn’t just inhabiting a demigod’s body, he’s also inhabiting the child who can become a god on his own rights.”

“And that’s important how?” Brad forgets for a millisecond that he’s supposed to be courteous. “And why are you here?”

“You know Ægir’s bastard,” Frigga growls, a sound that isn’t too pretty. “Harry, he calls himself?”

“I need to hear something that makes sense.”

“I’m a goddess of foresight, nothing I say makes sense,” Frigga laughs sarcastically. “But in plain words, my little prophet, neither Harry nor Zayn will stay as a mortal demigod by the end of next equinox.”

“The next equinox… the September one will happen in mere two weeks’ time!” Brad isn’t good with dates but he keeps tracks on a thing or two. “What are you saying, Frigga?”

“‘The son of Apollo heeds to the call  
To West or East he must fall  
At the feet of Death  
One must take his last breath.’”

“Did you just order a prophecy?” Brad asks the goddess; she smiles at the demigod. “You can’t do that! You’re supposed to tell me the answers I’m looking for!”

“That was the answer, my child,” Frigga dips his head down to press a ghost of kiss to his forehead. “I’m sure Apollo is proud of you if he sees you.”

With another flash of light, the Norse goddess is gone.

-

“I still think this plan won’t work!”

The old, wiser son of Ægir just sighs as he talks to Death. He shares a weird, deranged friendship with Zayn, as he prefers to be called, and he hates the cocky son of a bitch.

Zayn is a legacy of Arawn, the Gaelic god of the Dead, and that’s only from the body he’s possessing. On his own, he is known by many names — Thanatos, Grim Reaper, Soul Collector… but he likes being the oldest, maybe the _most_ , by the name of Anubis.

“Keeler,” Zayn uses his real name, the one he’s forsaken a long time ago. “You know the inevitable.”

“You already have my brother locked up and I must say, you did a good job of hiding your true identity from me for a really long time. When you interrupted me and Harry, I thought you were one of the Cult wanting to re-form Gaea,” Josh — or Keeler, as he was named — smirks. “I thought you weren’t one from the Sept.”

Zayn smiles at the immortal. Millennia of knowledge and memories don’t compare to how he’s re-acquainted with one of the primal gods.

Keeler used to be a Phoenician god, the ultimate God of Vengeance, but he was killed by his nemesis, Noir. Zayn remembers his own time as a young god, Anubis, and reading the scrolls of the primordial times. Not all the pantheons remember the constant fight between Light and Darkness but Greeks and Egyptians do. Zeus, that sodding bastard, forbid his subjects to ever mention the primordial but Ra never did.

“I made Harry believe I’m truly his half-brother but the stunt you pulled sort of revealed my true intent,” there’s so much malice in Keeler’s words. “I want to avenge myself.”

“Noir was wrong to kill you,” Zayn concedes. “But I want Brad out of the picture before we get into details.”

“Love only brings you down, Anubis,” Keeler growls out. “The first time you were around as Anubis, before other aspects of you came around, you were enamoured with some mortal girl. You fucking fell in love with her and wanted to grant her immortality. Can you imagine it? The god of funerals, the guide to death, falling for a mere child?”

“You killed her,” Zayn grits. “Which is why I don’t want you to kill Brad. He’s a prophet, a truer one than you’ll ever be.”

“And that’s why I need him _in_ our plan.”

-

“You’re crazy, Bradley,” Leigh-Anne scoffs. “You can’t possibly ask me to abdicate as the senior member of our siblings and just reinstate you as the new one!”

“Leigh, I need to tell you something I never told anyone,” Brad is dead serious about telling the only sibling of this Camp his deepest secret. “You’ve heard of prophets, right?”

“The last prophet of the Apollo bloodline died in the London Fire of 1666,” Leigh-Anne frowns. “You can’t be telling me–”

“I’ve been having dreams,” Brad insists. “And 95% of them came true ever since I’ve foreseen them. I knew I was going to lose my title to you the night Zayn blew me in Forest of Frigga. I knew that Harry and George was going to disappear on their own. And I sure as hell knew that you were planning on snogging that Jesy girl at Lake Azure tomorrow.”

“I haven’t told anyone that I’m kissing Jesy, never mind going on a date with her,” Leigh-Anne realises Brad isn’t making things up. “How did you acquire this skill?”

“I wasn’t sure at first, Leigh,” Brad doesn’t care that his words seep with desperation. “I just dreamt of a tall, immortal person with wings but I didn’t know that was going to be someone closest to me.”

 

About an hour later, Brad finishes _summarising_ his entire knowledge. He skips out on how Zayn is possibly an incarnation of a primordial god but he doesn’t want to scare his only ally.

“You’re telling me that some deranged demigods actually want Gaea back to life?” Leigh-Anne gets the point perfectly. “She wanted to kill us!”

“She wanted to re-create the world so you’re technically wrong on that,” Brad offers a weak smile. “But yeah, Mr. Ramsay has been hiding a lot of shite from us.”

“But the whole Norse pantheon thing is over the ledge, sorry for the slight pun,” Leigh-Anne curls a strand of her hair around her perfectly manicured nail (finger). “Like, the Thor stuff and Odin stuff are real?”

“My powers include archery and foresight, not the theology expertise,” Brad growls at his sister, the only sibling he really liked talking to over last five years. “Didn’t you think it was the slightest bit strange Zayn just dropped out of nowhere?”

“He’s a son of Venus with scary-ass aura,” some children of Apollo can sense auras like the Children of the Underworld. “How does he tie into this?”

“He’s apparently a legacy of Hades,” Brad deadpans. “I’ve seen him use the hellfire — no offense to Hades — and that was wee bit scary.”

“The flame of the underworld?” Leigh-Anne isn’t an airhead senior demigod for Apollo. “That’s something only the strongest demigod child of Hades-slash-Pluto can do!”

“And Zayn happens to double as a Child of Underworld who can wield that power,” he still won’t tell Leigh-Anne that Zayn is also Anubis or some shite like that. “Imagine a monster stumbling upon Zayn, with the looks of a child of Aphrodite, and being burnt to a puddle because of Zayn’s powers.”

“Why do you need my help?” Leigh-Anne narrows her dark eyes. “I can’t give up my seat in the Senior Council!”

“With that advantage, I can alert our friends here from Mr. Ramsay’s horrible brainwash.”

-

Harry doesn’t know how long it has been since Zayn and Josh — or Keeler — sent him and George to this godforsaken place. This is how exactly he’s expected Tartarus to be, only with more monsters, yeah.

“I’m gonna die,” George proclaims dramatically. “Harold, you told me that you’re capable of transcending through dimensions and realms?”

“Josh locked that power from me just as he hurtled me over the portal,” Harry wants to kill his half-brother. “I’m only useful around water.”

“Please tell me you can purify that,” George jerks his chin in direction of the putrid pool. “I think water is more important than actual food.”

Harry rolls his eyes and crouches beside the small pool. The pungent odour of rotting water is too much for his water-friendly body but he ignores that. He submerges his hand in the water and curses as the water fights him. He orders himself to brace it and manages to get the water clean, the toxins evaporating in his body.

“I don’t think I can thank you enough,” George presses his pink lips to Harry’s cheek, a chaste action. “And you know how I feel about you.”

Harry bloody well knows that George is in love with him and he loves George back. The little problem is that in sense of the Greeks, he is the child from the Big Three, which loosely translates into how much of a time bomb he really is. He can easily tear apart the entire Camp without even trying.

“Water is the key to survival, but our bodies will shut down without an actual supply of food,” George adds once his dry lips are moist from the water. “I don’t see anything we can hunt here.”

“I only have three packages of emergency ambrosia left and we aren’t even injured,” Harry sighs. “We don’t eat these for sustaining our lives like the gods.”

“These desperate times call for desperate measures,” Harry argues and divides the ambrosia into little squares. “One piece a day would be just enough not to kill us.”

“Where are we?” George pouts the words.

“My realm, little demigods,” a feminine voice replies. Instinctively, Harry whips his head around.

“Skadi,” Harry growls at the goddess. “What have you with us?”

“You’ve always been my least favourite nephew, believe me,” the goddess — Skadi — sighs, her breath coming like vaporised frost. “I’m here to aid you.”

“Unless you can restore Harry’s powers of teleportation, you can’t,” George hasn’t the policy of being 80% honest, that’s the thing. “And real food us mortals can eat.”

Skadi smiles and within a blink of an eye, there’s a table full of food Harry and George wanted for so long. He can see his favourite meal of creamy tomato soup with onion, as well as George’s favourite Peking duck.

 

They eat in silence, the blizzard seemingly dodging around them. Harry knows it’s the trick of the goddess. Two immortal wolves, who are also her sons, flank the goddess.

“Thank you for helping us,” George is more polite on full stomach. “But my lady, why are you doing this?”

“Have you heard about the primordial gods?”

Harry’s heart sinks at the mention of the primordial gods. They are the first gods, before the complications of pantheons and rules appeared. Chaos was the source of everything and after Chaos began life. Gaea is the most benevolent primordial goddess and that’s saying a lot. Some primordial gods like Noir, the Personification of Darkness, wanted to kill the others.

Thankfully, Gaea had help from Hypnos and Erebus, putting them all to sleep.

And demigods think Mother Earth is the worst.

“You know the truth about Josh — Keeler — don’t you?” Harry’s guts feeling intensifies when the goddess nods her head. “You thought you could try to restore the balance by making me an immortal.”

“That’s a bit hard given the current position,” George’s eyes glint like dark amber-hued pools. “It’s like you never considered what I possess.”

-

Brad knows he’s running out of time and the shadows are closing in on him as he avoids Zayn at all costs. His dreams shifted, from the dark wings caging him in, to eternal darkness around him. Isolating him.

“You’re really shitty, you know that?” The other friend Brad has in the camp, Elijah, scoffs as he lights up a fag. “You’re asking a son of _Nemesis_ to help you with something.”

“Well, I’m out of options,” Brad replies. “You’re the second person I told about my gift of foresight.”

“And you’re dumb enough to,” Elijah grins. “You can’t trust anyone you’ve known for a while.”

“I trust you tad bit more than other idiots here,” Brad replies with a sigh. “And I told you a million times not to smoke around me!”

“Like a give a shit,” Elijah flicks the ash towards Brad. “You didn’t just come up to me so we can chat about the world possibly ending and my bad habits.”

“You want to make a right choice, I reckon?” Brad stares into Elijah’s mossy green eyes. “You’ll save the world, not raze it.”

“Get to the fucking point, Simpson.”

“When the time is right, I’ll call for you.”

 

To say the least, the talk with Elijah was a disaster and Brad makes a b-line towards the Archery Range. He gets a normal bow from the shed when he hears the footsteps. Habits kick in and he aims his bow at the newcomer.

“One week of avoiding me and now you’re trying to kill me?” Zayn smirks, he bloody smirks like he was born to do that. “I thought you were killed off by the Sept.”

“The Sept is powerless without George, you should know this better than me,” Brad wants to kick himself in the nuts for falling in love with Anubis/Zayn. “He is the final part in the equation.”

“I love you, Brad,” Zayn closes the distance between them. “It’s hurting me to do this.”

“Then don’t help the primordial gods rise to their formal glory,” Brad stands on his tiptoes, letting their lips graze. “Let the Phoenicians do what they were born to do.”

Phoenician gods are anti-primordial and nemeses of the later. Brad knows that Keeler is a Phoenician god trapped inside the body of an eight-hundred-years-old demigod. Unlike most Phoenicians who got killed or put into indefinite amount of slumber, Keeler managed to hide from the primordial for millennia, if not older than Chaos itself.

“I’m Anubis,” Zayn grits out. Brad hates it when Zayn brings that up. “I’m a god of Death, I can’t feel love for you.”

“But you are also Zayn, the same demigod my heart has fallen for all those years ago,” Brad smiles up at his only love, caressing his cut jawline. “I love you, and I revoke the curse I put on you, this I swear on my immortal soul.”

The magical bind that put the curse on Zayn lifts and fades away but Brad knows that’s not why they’re here. He merely initiates the kiss, garnering a surprised gasp from his lover.

Kissing Zayn never changed over five years, in the retrospect. The only new concept is that they both know they are in love, no matter how much the walls are closing in on them. Brad smiles into the kiss, feeling the familiar warmth of Zayn’s hand on the small of his back. Zayn is a soft lad, unlike his bad boy exterior, and Brad fucking loves that. There isn’t any rush in their kiss, just renewing their feelings for each other, and he tackles Zayn to the ground.

The falling part of the snogging session isn’t grand but how Zayn lets Brad be in charge is refreshing. He didn’t want to have a grind in their reunion but his hormones are overriding his priorities. He needs this, the feeling of belonging, and kissing Zayn feels so right.

 

Clothes come off one by one and Brad blushes how the setting sun beautifully illuminates Zayn’s naked body. His eyes are burning like twin ambers whilst the stark inks on his body make him look so fearless. Powerful.

Undeniably sexy.

“I love you,” Brad whispers as he grabs the base of Zayn’s shaft and eases the hole inside of himself. “So much.”

“ _Amo_ ,” Zayn replies in Latin.

The stretch is too much, and maybe that’s because he hadn’t sex in last couple months. He couldn’t allow himself to have sex with Zayn when the Sept were trying to recruit him as well as the missing George. Brad feels the tip of Zayn hitting his prostate, causing him to gasp from the intense pleasure. He rotates his hips in a teasing manner, which Zayn growls at. Brad only smirks, mirroring Zayn from before, and starts to move his hips up and down. His movements are shallow and fast, barely enough to make anyone race to the finish line, and Brad loves the fury snapping in Zayn’s eyes. Gradually, Brad increases his speed and depth of the movements, the little jabs at his prostate enough to make him moan in a pornstar-esque way. Zayn decides he’d enough and flips them around, throwing Brad’s legs over his shoulders from the get-go. The way Zayn ploughs into Brad is unbelievably erotic, enough to make him come in spurts. Zayn releases his seeds inside Brad almost immediately afterwards, with a giggling Brad.

“That was the best sex yet,” Brad takes a rag for cleaning the arrow shafts and wipes his come off of himself. “But I still want you to reconsider.”

“The Sept didn’t realise George’s part in this, which is why I sent him off in Skadiheim with Harry,” Zayn throws Brad’s joggers towards him. “But yeah, I think I’m going to side with the Phoenicians this time.”

“This time?” Brad knits his eyebrows together. “You’re Anubis.”

“I’m a reborn god-slayer,” Zayn replies with so much calm, it scares Brad. “I thought you knew.”

-

“George Paul Shelley,” Harry starts the tic in his jaw. “What have you been hiding?”

“I didn’t know!” George protests. “The dreams didn’t come to me before I came to this realm!”

The goddess, Skadi, watches the demigod with a bemused look on her face.

“What dreams?”

“The Sept is real,” George rambles on. “The Sept is a group of demigods who are also reborn from the Phoenician gods.”

“The Sept is useless without all the members of the Phoenician gods,” Skadi inputs. “From what I’ve heard from my supplicants, only four out of the original nine are found.”

“Zayn, Keeler and Harry?” George ventures a guess. “Oh c’mon, Haz. It’s bloody obvious you’re from the Sept.”

“Yeah, but I’m the youngest in the Sept, unless you come in,” Harry refutes, his cheeks colouring a dark shade of red. “The Sept are the nemeses of the Cult of Gaea, you know that from your dreams?” George nods. “We want to stop the Cult from awakening the other primordial like they did with her. With luck, we can stop them in time.”

“Only four out of nine,” Skadi reminds the demigods. “You’ve only until the Solstice to stop the Cult from awakening Noir.”

“Noir?” George is confused.

“The Personification of Darkness.”

-

“Tomorrow is the June Solstice,” Brad is currently yelling outside Mr. Ramsay’s villa/headquarters. “As a bloody Phoenician, you should be aware today is your last chance!”

“For love of all thing godly,” Mr. Ramsay actually appears right in front of Brad, looking pissed off. “Can you be any louder?”

“I know a Phoenician,” Brad knows he needs full attention from the former Phoenician. “I think you know the other five too.”

“Zayn is a Phoenician slash god-slayer,” Mr. Ramsay studies his nails. “And I know you got a prophecy from Frigga.”

“Bring–”

Brad wasn’t prepared to be sent to another fucking realm so the cold bothers him a-fucking-lot. He sees the familiar shapes of Harry’s unruly curls and George’s tamed ones.

“Did Zayn send you here?” Harry arches a brow; Brad shakes his head no.

“We need all nine Phoenicians,” Brad starts, surprising the two others. “You two are two of them, and we’ve got Mr. Ramsay and Zayn.”

“You know the end game,” Harry growls. “I bloody well know you’ve the powers of foresight.”

“We need to travel across this realm and find the four Phoenician gods are free from their prison, but still stuck here.”

“Four?”

“I’m one as well.”

**Author's Note:**

> All the shtuff about primordial and Phoenicians are obviously my own version of mythology. :P


End file.
